


Strawberry

by Anonymous



Category: Clone High
Genre: Diners, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Milkshakes, Sharing a Milkshake, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, hes nervous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:41:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26190568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: “Is that seat taken?” You glance up to see him motioning to the seat across from you. “Not at all.”
Relationships: JFK/Reader
Comments: 9
Kudos: 257
Collections: Anonymous





	Strawberry

**Author's Note:**

> how the fuck do i format

When you spot him from across the diner, all sad eyed and mopey, you can’t say you expected to see him here. JFK?  _ Sad _ ? That’s not something you see everyday. He seems to catch your stare, as he semi-miserably shuffles toward you.

“So, how’d it go with Cleopatra?”

“Actually...” He scratches behind his neck, fidgeting in place. “She, er, dumped me.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Lincoln?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Maybe it was for the, uh, best?”

You smile warmly at the menu sitting on the table. “Yeah, some things fall into place like that.” 

“Is that seat taken?” You glance up to see him motioning to the seat across from you. “Not at all.”He slides into the booth and hesitantly picks up a menu, not before sparing you a few glances.

“Have you ever been here before?” You ask, peering at him through the top of the menu. “Uh, don’t think so. Would’ve, er, remembered. Didn’t even know there was a diner here, actually.” He turns his head to look around at the small diner, how had he missed this place every time he drove by? How many times had he completely passed it? 

“Really? Well, you’re in for a treat. I’ve heard their milkshakes are top-notch.” He flashes you a grin and scans the menu again for milkshakes. 

“What’s your favorite flavor?”

“Err... I’ve always liked vanilla.” 

“Personally, I like strawberry.”

“Strawberry’s alright too, but it’s a bit, uh, over—“ He doesn’t finish his sentence before you’re at the counter, ordering one strawberry milkshake. He blinks, once, twice out of bewilderment before you’re strutting back to the table. 

“Hope you don’t mind, we’re sharing a strawberry.”

_Oh_.

That’s different. Cleopatra never shared drinks with him. He brushes it off as a good-natured friendly gesture, though he can’t help but flush two shades. 

Soon enough, a pretty waitress (who you vaguely recognize as some far off celebrity) places a large milkshake on the table between the two of you. It’s strawberry, of course, with too much whip cream on the top of the glass, with two straws poked in on either side. 

JFK fiddles his thumbs, and stares at the tiles of the table. 

You lean in, taking a straw in your fingers and guiding it to your mouth. “What? Don’t like strawberry?”

“No. Er, I just... uh...” He doesn’t meet your eyes. “Mm?” You pull away from the straw and give him a questioning glance.

You push the glass toward him and he gives you a thankful smile, taking the straw and drinking the milkshake. He doesn’t pay attention as you lean in, taking the other straw—he’s too busy watching the whip cream go lower and lower— that he doesn’t notice until he glances up.

He instantly flushed and pulls away, scrambling to press his back to the back of the seat. You laugh, choking on your milkshake, pounding on the table. And maybe he notices how  nice  you look when you laugh, or how you crinkle your nose, or throw your head back, or— 

“My  _ god _ ! Kennedy—hoo— you should see your face right now!” 

He smiles a little, biting the inside of his lip. His cheeks are burning so much it hurts, but he can’t find himself mad. 

“Shaddup...”

You beam at him, and he shyly reaches for the back of his neck. 

You two finish your drink in almost comfortable silence, if not for you trying to stifle a giggle every time he flushed from the proximity of your faces. You get up, grab your jacket before abruptly stands. “Can I, um, walk you home? Maybe?” The sides of your mouth twitch into a small smile. “Sure.”

The couple of you stroll down the streets, aimlessly turning down side streets until you reach your house. “Thanks for the chance encounter, JFK. I really liked it.” You smile at him before walking up the steps to your abode. “Wait.” You turn your head to him. “Yeah?” “I, er... uhm... really liked this. Would you, uh, wanna do it again sometime?” You turn entirely to face him now, a smug grin on your face. “Was this your plan all along, Kennedy?” He smiles like he’s been caught red handed, and you giggle. “Of course. I’ll let you know when I’m free, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You wave to him as you head inside, and he spins around, ear-splitting grin on display. He can’t help but chuckle, which turns into a fit of giggles as he heads down the street. 

Maybe its better to have things fall into place.


End file.
